


desiderium

by livj707



Category: To the Moon Series (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livj707/pseuds/livj707
Summary: re·gret/rəˈɡret/verb1.feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over (something that has happened or been done, especially a loss or missed opportunity).
Relationships: Eva Rosalene & Neil Watts, Eva Rosalene/Neil Watts
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	desiderium

**Author's Note:**

> this is vv simple and short and messy, and definitely not my best work, but i wanted to post it anyways, because i firmly believe that both neil and eva are lonelier than they let on, and that their career is the reason why.

They’ve always felt sorry for those who end up at Sigmund’s guest house.

People, both young and old, who failed themselves. Failed to live their lives the way they wanted to. Failed to balance work and family, responsibilities and relaxation, or some other combination. People equipped with a collection of screwups that they’ve chosen to turn inside out with the push of a button on an expensive machine rather than putting in the effort to fix their mistakes themselves. God, who wouldn’t take an opportunity like that? A hand-wrapped gift, delivered directly to your doorstep, as long as you're willing to pay the price.

And they felt sorry for them. It must be unfortunate, being so devoid of hope that you turn to doctors who will erase the only life you will ever have and rewrite it from scratch, being doomed to take your final breath before you have the chance to change your mind.

 _Poor suckers,_ they used to think. _What a sad waste. What a burden._

But they’re learning each and every day how easy it is to end up in their positions. That maybe their patients aren’t so different from them after all.

People like Neil and Eva shouldn’t live with regrets.

I mean, their entire lives revolve around traversing through others, altering this and that to ensure people die happy. That’s the whole point. They’ve been doing this job for years, and it’s all they know. And, at this point, it’s almost hard not to judge their own patients. _Stop lying to her_ or _tell him how you feel_ or _can’t you see what’s right in front of you?_ It’s so obvious to them, this step-by-step process on how to live. They’ve seen regret in every single one of their patients, and it’s all the same. 

How did they possibly mess up in their own lives? It was right in front of them, plain and simple, the whole time.

_Live your life without any regrets. Take chances. Don’t mess up like your patients did._

And yet…

Stupid, stupid, stupid, the chances they didn't take. The lives they didn't live. The things they didn't say.

And it doesn't even make sense. Any of it. They're two completely different people. They always have been. 

Eva, with her tightness and her organization, a golden laugh that barely ever sees the world. Her warmth and comfort and compassion towards her patients. Neil, with his poorly-timed quips and immaturity and coldness and sharp edges.

When they met, Eva was rigid, tightly-wound, bags under her eyes from her college all-nighters. She was made of work and nothing but, balancing multiple jobs with her obsessive study sessions, anxious to work for SigCorp, the miracle-worker she was convinced was too good to be true. When they met, Neil was obnoxious and cynical and so, so bright. One of the most clever people she could ever hope to meet, though she’d never tell him that.

The two will argue from the workplace to the car to someone's actual _head_ , bickering about everything from a microscopic disagreement to a deep-rooted fundamental _difference_ between the two, a difference that just can't be overlooked.

And sometimes still...it's more simple than that.

Eva, who keeps her heart on her sleeve and still some part of it locked inside her, never speaking aloud what she really feels. Neil, who hides behind a shield of denial and deflection, blocking out his deepest horrors with jokes that he wields at a moment's notice. Neither one of them happy, neither one of them content.

They bring each other coffee on bad days and share identical smiles on good ones. She does his paperwork along with her own because she saw how much he was yawning throughout the day and she knows he doesn't need the extra stress. He grabs her sweater before they leave for another shift because she always forgets and she never wants to admit when she's cold. They know each other's favorite movies, favorite songs, favorite everything. She knows how he takes his coffee (she's brought him more cups than she can count) and he knows that she's allergic to raw tomatoes, being extra careful to never order them on the rare-but-special occasion he picks up food. And through it all they see each other through stained glass, secrets buried deeper than either of them want to admit. They're strangers who know each other better than absolutely anyone else.

It doesn't make sense but it _does_ , the fact that Neil looks at his bottle of painkillers and thinks of what Eva would say if she knew. She defends him in front of their boss when he slacks on the job and he holds his umbrella over her when it rains. Sometimes they laugh over the dumbest shared-jokes and Eva will completely forget that she thought she hated him. She’s supposed to. 

Neil never thought he would get attached to his patients. He didn’t mean to. He walks into each case focusing on his paycheck, knowing it's the only way he can stay sane in his line of work. Get in, get paid, get out. Still, though, he finds himself slipping. Overthinking sending a signal or getting choked up at a stranger’s misfortunes. When he first started the job, he wouldn’t have guessed that what happened with River and Johnny would happen. That he’d risk getting fired, even facing serious legal consequences for the patient’s sake. He’d do it all again, of course. He’s never regretted his decision, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t complicate his life.

(And although it’s taken years, she finally understands why he wakes up with a shield made of apathy, because at Sigmund that's the only way you can endure the things you see, the only way you can survive. She can’t believe she used to judge him for it.)

Eva used to think her job would make her feel like a superhero. Sometimes, it still does. Sometimes her heart is warmed by her patients’ families and their endless gratitude and respect, the way they hold each other with tears in their eyes because although their loved one is gone, they died imagining a better world for themself. It’s mesmerizing, seeing those scenes play out, knowing she’s directly responsible for them. It isn’t always like that, but sometimes. And it almost makes everything else worth it.

But then it’s home again. 

They spend painful hours fixing lives and fulfilling dreams and go home alone to empty apartments. Sometimes Eva gets lost in her patients’ heads, immersing herself in the minds of people who don’t spend every waking moment second-guessing. She lives vicariously through the dead and the dying, people who take risks and seize moments. People with rich lives instead of rich wallets and more memories than she’d create in a lifetime. Neil will turn off the television in his living room and be astounded than any space could ever be so impossibly quiet.

It wasn’t until her second year at Sigmund that Eva’s old friends drifted away, high school and college classmates who finally realized that the Eva they used to know wasn’t there anymore. She tried to pretend it didn't bother her; after all, she was “married to her work,” as she liked to say, and her bizarre schedule never made sufficient room for a personal life. But it’s weird, isn’t it? It's weird how fast sacrifices come and go, how fast things can change.

“You need to get out of your head sometimes, Eva,” they used to say before heading out to bars and clubs in extravagant getups she could only dream of pulling off. “All you ever do is work! Just let loose tonight, okay?” And it was always _tonight,_ just one night. Just one drink, one party, one chance. And she’d always politely decline, not knowing that working for Sigmund meant signing a contract on her own youth, giving up the innocence she doesn’t even remember having, it’s been so long.

Neil has long since lost that connection with the outside world, if it was even there to begin with.

And maybe there’s a reason for the reclusiveness. Maybe there’s a reason they don’t have many friends. How many young adults can say they’ve made a wish come true? Seen a war veteran find peace in his passing, or a mother holding a child who’s _gone_ in the real world? How many people their age have altered realities, changed lives both figuratively and literally? Sent people to space and to the hidden depths of the sea, given people money and riches and power mere minutes before seeing them flatline in cold, empty rooms? Who else knows the weight of such a lifestyle? The pride and the guilt?

Neil and Eva both know that as much as they try to block it out, neither one of them can sleep without seeing their last patient’s face lingering behind their eyelids. They can forget about their job until the memories of it are suffocating, overwhelming, because they have to pretend they’re okay with carrying a hundred other lives along with their own. They can ignore the ethical dilemmas that every case amplifies until they’re standing in line at the grocery store two months later, remembering the way a patient’s husband cried over the fact that his deceased wife erased him from memory, or the way the daughter of an accountant hurled insults their way because her father had chosen to travel the world, even if it meant she had never been born at all.

Their bodies are young but their hearts are so, so tired.

They find Neil on his kitchen floor - “they” being the only neighbor who had cared enough to check up on him. Eva feels regret, of course. And she soon learns that the painkillers were just a tiny part of it, one little secret in an intricate web of falsehoods. Just a small aspect of her partner's secret life.

(And had it really been secret? When she had even asked, even _bothered_ to reach out to him?)

He's taken to the hospital so that's where she ends up, hunched over in an uncomfortable chair hours after getting the phone call that told her she was Neil's emergency contact. And at first she had been surprised, but it makes more sense the longer she sits at his bedside. Really, who else would it be? She understands his isolation. His solitude. Eva's emergency contact is her sister. But Neil doesn't have a Traci.

She learns between five and eight on a rainy Tuesday morning that her partner is dying, and he had taken pills to dull the pain, and that suddenly everything made sense, because of course it all falls into place at the last moment, when the curtains have already been drawn and the show has already ended. He's dying, he's dying and it's all over. And yes, it all makes sense now. Not that it matters even a little.

She can’t even tell him that he’s her best friend. It’s too late for that.

A week passes, and her boss tells her that Neil is filling out a last wish.

And it’s almost funny, almost ironic. Almost, almost, almost.

She volunteers to be the one to do it. When she comes into work, Roxie pulls her into a bone-crushing hug, one that knocks all the air out of her lungs. She reluctantly rests her arms on her back, for no reason other than the fact that she knows Roxie is a hugger and she needs the comfort more than ever. Rob patiently hangs back a bit further down the hall, and Eva notices him busying himself with the watch on his wrist.

It doesn’t feel real, any of it.

She decides to make it her final case. She boxes up her things the week after, shutting the door of her office for the last time. Hangs up her lab coat.

And then Neil Watts is buried on the far side of town, and Eva Rosalene looks at his grave with the words she never got to say still lingering on her tongue.

What a sad waste. What a burden.


End file.
